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Was There Supposed to be Lawn Here?

Lost or Forgotten?

“I am confused”, thought the shoot of grass. “I thought there was supposed to be lawn here. Where are all the other guys?” He looked around and as far as his weeds eyes could see, he was surrounded by moss. They seemed nice enough, but not quite as nice as family. Well, not as familiar, at any rate.

The day dawned, grew strong and waned, and still the grass shoot was alone amongst the moss. He was no longer as lonely as he’d been at first. He’d noticed that the moss did what he did. They grew, took what they needed of what was offered them, and existed in harmony with their surroundings. When a fly lit upon one upshoot of moss, the moss was still and accepting. When the sunlight shifted and slanted through the iron fence, the moss turned ever so slightly to catch all the rays. As the grass shoot unfolded his leaves, towing above the moss, they did not attack, nor retreat. They let him be.

The night came, and with it the dew. The grass shoot always loved this time best, because it was as if fairies gently laid tiny pearls upon him. He felt tingly when the dew came, and tonight he could see the same excitement among the moss surrounding him. In the morning, the grass shoot stretched to new heights with resolve. Although he might be the only grass shoot among the moss, he would carry on his job, as they were doing as well. He had found a new family in circumstance and this one engendered a deeper understanding of the other because things were not exactly the same. He had to interpret the moss language, and when he did, he found they were singing the same song and together all seeking the sun.

Perhaps that’s something to keep in mind when we find ourselves in the “right” place, but alone among strangers. Who is the weed in that scenario?

Please come back tomorrow for a new “Weed Image of the Day” and let me know which ones you like.

We and our weeds are so much more than what we first appear to be.

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